


Where the Lights Mingle

by Essie Essex (Kuroneko0489)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroneko0489/pseuds/Essie%20Essex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleanor Hickey is thrust from her world at the Academy of Natural Philosophy after meeting Overseer William Huxley - a man who desires a simple solution for a very serious problem. Together, they search for the truth amidst the lies of the Abbey and the comfort of the Academy, their only weapon marked on the back of the Overseer's hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fred is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Story for i-want-a-callisto on Tumblr. This will be in four parts. Hopefully, I'll finish it before the end of the year. Also, not my best writing, but I'm posting it anyway.

Someone once asked me if I wake up to darkness or to light.

Of course, I said, "Light," but then she asked me how I knew.

"I have eyes. I can see the light."

Then she asked, "Does the Overseer wake up to darkness or to light?"

"Light," I replied.

The woman smiled.

"Exactly, so why do you treat each other as though the other wakes to darkness? Surely, there is something you have missed, something you cannot see - you both awaken to twilight."

* * *

**Part I: Fred is Dead**

**The Month of Nets, 1st day of the First Week**

"Ready?" I say, my hand on the switch.

"Ready!" I hear my partner Harmon yell from the other side of the room.

"Okay," I say. "Steven, lights out." I hear a series of clicks, and the room turns dark.

"Lights out," I hear Steven say.

"Okay," I start. "Harmon, ready?"

"Ready!" He says once more.

"Flip the switch on one. Three... Two... One!" I flip the heavy switch, straining as it fights against me. Then, suddenly the room is bright. My eyes grow wide, and I gape at Harmon, who is across the room. He does the same to me, and for a few seconds it is as if we have made the sun itself rise.

"It - It's work - " I am blind. The room is dark again, and I feel my heart sink, catching a whiff of smoke coming from the machine nearby.

"Dammit!" I hear Harmon say. "I was really thinking that one was going to work." I sigh.

"Okay, turn off the switch Harmon." The switch is much easier to power off. "Steven, lights on." Steven turns on the main power, and the electricity is back. I meet my two partners in the middle of the room.

"Well, at least we got something," I say, attempting to put on a smile. "All we have to do is improve it. Maybe if we charge it longer - "

" - We charged it for a week!" Harmon says, sighing. "Nobody's going to want to charge a huge machine for a month to get a day's worth of electricity!" He throws his hands up. "Maybe we should do something else. Something easier."

"What?" I say. "But we've gotten so far, and this machine could change the entire Empire. We won't have to rely on whale oil anymore for our power."

"Honestly, Eleanor, I don't really care. I'm supposed to graduate in a month, and I'd like to be able to do that. If we keep doing this, we're not going to finish in time." Harmon rubs the top of his head.

"So, that's all you care about? Graduating? What about the whales that are being slaughtered and tortured just so we can turn on lights at the flip of a switch or power our weapons? What about the smog problem in Dunwall? Do your really want to keep breathing that in? The air stinks! And what happens when there are no more whales to hunt? Ships are already having to go out farther and farther to sea to find them. We could change all of this, but all you care about is graduating. You don't deserve to graduate!"

"Eleanor," Steven says. "We've spent nearly three times longer on our project than others have. They've already done multiple projects, while we're still on our first one."

"We are not quitting!" I yell, nearly crying. "We can't now."

"I just _knew_ this would turn out badly," said Harmon. "But I just had to get the Morlish girl in my group. Just my luck."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I feel my face grow hot as my lab partner looks at me as though I am trash.

"You shouldn't even be here. This place is for real natural philosophers. Not little girls who want their fanciful dreams to come true." Harmon throws his notebook down. "I'm done." He puts his hands up, backing toward the door. "You want to keep working on this, Eleanor, do it yourself. You're not taking me down with you." He turns, slamming the door behind him after leaving the room.

"Sorry," says Steven. He puts his notes on a nearby table. "I'll leave my notes, too, so you can keep working on this."

"I don't need you all anyway," I mumble, picking Harmon's notebook from the floor. "You were only holding me back. This _will_ work. I'll keep working on this as long as it takes."

* * *

The sun sets, taking the sting of conflict with it. The empty lab is almost peaceful, and I find that I actually enjoy working alone. I can think. _Really_ think, and I get to know the machine, called "Fred" - Harmon and Steven named it in jest - going through all of its parts, seeing what goes where and what does what.

The wooden floor squeaks and creaks under my feet as I walk back and forth, looking between notebooks, attempting to add everything together. We had it. We just need to make it more efficient.

Fred is supposed to use the power of wind or water to make electricity. Ideally, once I get it started, it would be completely self-sustainable, but Fred is a long way away from that.

"Fred, what do I do with you?" I ask, sitting on a stool in front of it. I put my elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand and sighing, my brunette hair flapping in the breeze as warm air rushes from Fred's vents. _I am talking to a machine_. I bury my head in my hands, groaning.

I realize that the sun has gone down, and my stomach rumbles. I don't think I brought any food with me. I consider leaving to go back to my apartment, but Fred entices me. I can't leave without figuring out how to improve it. I will go hungry.

I flip through the notebooks again to see if I missed anything, but I am distracted as I detect movement out of the corner of my eye. The swish of robes and a flash of bronze.

"Who's there?" I ask. The face appears again in the doorway, and I jump at the sight of a scowling face peeking from the darkness of the hall. The door creaks open, a robed figure slipping through and stepping across the threshold. "You're not allowed to be in here," I say forcefully. "Get out." The Overseer stands his ground, and I grasp my pen in my hand - my only weapon. "Go away," I tell him, frantic thoughts running through my head.

Is this about Fred? Will they accuse me of being a witch just for working on something they don't understand? I wouldn't be surprised. I've heard that many are taken away - imprisoned and burned as heretics - over simple misunderstandings. A strange smell. A unique talent.

_That woman-she sings so well. Too well._ In my mind, the Overseers grab the singing woman, dragging her offstage in front of her audience, and she cries over and over, "I'm not a witch. Please, I'm not a witch!"

I keep my eyes on the Overseer as he raises his hand, putting it under his mask and then removing the snarling bronze face covering his true one.

He looks to be in his mid to late thirties. Plain face, except for his crooked nose, and honey-colored eyes. He places a gloved hand on his head, raking his fingers through his short, dark brown hair.

"I... " He starts. "I was looking for a student. I need help with something." He keeps his face calm, but there is something in his eyes. Fear?

"I'm a student," I say. "What do you need, Overseer?" Saying the word makes me cringe. The only reason I ever speak of Overseers is to complain about them. A few stand outside the Academy every day, specifically waiting for me, so that when I walk by they can tell me how I am being influenced by the Outsider. How a woman should be doing "women's work". I've gotten used to them and just ignore their cries now, but still I'm not fond of Overseers at all.

"You?" he says. "But you're a... "

The Overseer falls silent, looking down at his feet. He clenches his hand into a fist, finally making eye contact with me and opens his mouth.

"I... " He pauses, taking a deep breath. "Please don't tell anyone about this." I stare at him.

"What is it you want?" I ask, tapping my foot.

"Please promise me you won't say anything," the Overseer says. I cross my arms.

"Fine, I won't say anything. Now, what is it?" What exactly could this Overseer want from me? What would I be able to help him with? He steps forward, putting his mask on a table and nearing me. My guard is up, but I allow him to approach. Soon, we stand no more than a foot away from each other, and the Overseer removes his glove, showing me the back of his hand. I glance at it, looking back at his face.

"You wanted to show me your tattoo? What, do you not like it, so you're looking to see if there's some way to remove it?" My foot taps against the wooden floor, faster now.

"This is no tattoo," says the Overseer. "Do you recognize this symbol?" I look at the tattoo again.

"No, I don't. Listen, I'd like to get back to my work, so please just tell me what you need help with."

"Well," says the Overseer, extending his hand further. "This is the symbol of the Outsider. I have been marked."

I have no idea what he is talking about.

"What should I do about it? Don't you need to talk to another Overseer?" The Overseer's eyes widen.

"No, no. I can't. I'd be branded as a heretic. Please don't tell them!" He panics, clasping his hands together to plead with me.

"Calm down. I said I won't tell anyone." I have never seen an Overseer so desperate before, but I avoid them like river krusts.

"I received this mark in a dream," the Overseer tells me. "And then I was cursed with... certain abilities. I just - I have heard that the students in this place study subjects of all manners. I was hoping that someone would be able to cure me of these powers. I have prayed and prayed, but it does nothing. So, I turn to natural philosophy, now." He looks me in the eye. "Please, please get rid of them."

Does he think I'm stupid? I can feel my face becoming hot and attempt to restrain myself, speaking in staccatos.

"Look, I don't know why you think I'm foolish enough to believe you. Nobody here will take you seriously. We are the smartest people in Dunwall. It would be best if you just left and kept this ridiculousness to yourself. I am not wasting my time speaking to you anymore, so please leave and shut the door behind you." I try to give him my most intimidating face.

"Please! There must be something you can do!" The Overseer tries to take my hands, but I push him away.

"Stay back!" I snap. "Just go. I find it insulting that you're still trying to feed me this bullshit."

"I can show you," he says.

"Go away!" I back away from the man. "If you don't I'll - "

The Overseer disappears. He is _gone._ I scan the room for him. What did he do to me?

_He must have drugged me when he took my hands,_ I tell myself. To make me see things. Is this the Abbey's plan to get me to leave the Academy? They think that if they convince me that magic and witches and the Outsider are real, I will stop studying natural philosophy and... what? Join the Oracular Order? Get married and have children? They believe that I will just ignore all that I have studied? I shake my head. Tomorrow, I will give those Overseers a piece of my mind.

My heart races, and I sit, looking at the place where an Overseer stood just moments ago, and my eyes travel to a bronze-colored object resting on a nearby table.

The Overseer's mask.

* * *

**The Month of Nets, 1st day of the Second Week**

I set Fred's parts on the ground, making sure they are organized, so that I can easily put them back in again. I examine the machine's insides, poking here, pinching there.

"Maybe if I - No."

I have donned glasses to better see Fred's tiny wires and little metal pieces, twisted here and welded there. Fred's extensions are scattered around the room - unattached at the moment. Right now, it is just Fred and me.

I have improved him a bit, but still he only generates light for a few seconds, and I have been tempted to simply set all of my work aside. Do an easier project. I am tired, but I've gotten so far. If there is a way for Fred to generate light, then I should be able to make the process more efficient.

Of course, more than Fred is in my way at the moment. I've seen Harmon around, and Steven - the "nice" one - will not even look my way when we pass each other. I have Fred, but I find myself wanting more than a pile of wires and metal.

I mean, of course, Fred is more than wires and metal, but I guess I want something more.

I sigh. I'll probably feel better once I've perfected Fred.

My thoughts are interrupted by a commotion in the hallway - a few voices, shuffling feet.

"Out of the way," I hear, and something slams against my inner wall, grunting in pain. The footsteps have slowed, and I jump at a series of loud thumps at the door.

"Eleanor Hickey. In the name of the Abbey of the Everyman, open the door at once."

I am frozen, my heart pounding. I drop my tools to the ground.

"If you do not comply we will be forced to break the door down, and you will be punished."

"C - Coming!" I choke. Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the door, turning the lock and opening it slowly.

"Overseers," I say, attempting to smile. "What brings all of you-" Overseers fill the hallway, and I cannot even see where the group ends. "-All of you to my door?" I struggle to keep my smile looking natural.

"Miss Hickey, you will vacate the room while the Overseers search your apartment. Come with me."

I follow the Overseer, looking back at the group of men filing into the doorway of my apartment. I hear a crash.

"What are they-"

"Please, keep your mouth shut, Miss Hickey, and only speak when you are addressed."

The Overseer leads me into a storage closet where a single chair has been placed on the ground. A lone whale oil lamp burns dimly, casting blue light throughout the room accompanied by the scent of greasy smoke, rising in wisps from its body. The man motions for me to sit, and I tentatively obey, having to crane my neck to look the Overseer in the eye. He flips through a notebook, making a few scribbles before looking back down at me.

I don't like how he stares at me, and I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes. But this is no ordinary man, who I can intimidate with a glare-this is an Overseer. A cultist with power. I could give him my worst glare, and he could drive his sabre right through it.

"I am Overseer Lemler. I'll be asking you a few questions as of now. If my brothers feel that there is need to do a more in-depth, ah, questioning, we will take you to a nearby Abbey facility. Now, Miss Hickey, you are a student at the Academy of Natural Philosophy, yes?"

"Yes," I say, keeping my face blank. I look the Overseer in the eye.

"And you are originally from Morley?"

"Yes."

"Where in Morley?"

"Fraeport."

The Overseer nods, scribbling in his notebook for a while.

_"Foreigners,"_ I hear him mumble under his breath. I dig my nails into my palms, resisting the urge to tap my foot. My mind wanders to Fred. I left all of his parts out on the floor. Surely by now the Overseers had stepped all over them, scattering them everywhere. I push the thought from my mind, ordering myself to stay focused.

"Miss Hickey."

_"Yes,"_ I reply, more sharply than I mean to speak.

"Do you recall seeing anything strange last week while you were at the Academy?"

"Sorry?" I ask.

"Well, one of our brothers, Overseer Huxley, visited the Academy last week."

I shake my head.

"I've never heard of him," I reply automatically.

The Overseer raises his head a bit. "Really?" he says. "Then how did you come to possess his mask?"

Shit.

"Oh, yes. He came to visit me, about - he just wanted to ask me a question."

"What was the question?" The Overseer's face nears mine.

"It - it was his tattoo. He wanted it removed." I hold my breath. I have no reason to lie for Overseer Huxley. "He just asked me if I knew anyone at the Academy who knows how to do that."

"And?"

"...And I said, 'no', and then he left."

"And that's it? He just _left?_ "

"Yes." I nod.

"He forgot his mask, though."

"Yes, he left it on the table. So, I just thought I'd go give it back to him..."

* * *

**The Month of Nets, 2nd day of the First Week**

The bell rings noon at the Office of the High Overseer, its toll synchronized with that of Dunwall's clock tower, and the sun shines overhead, piercing the smog that has accumulated in the air. Holger Square is peaceful, the stocks deserted, and a few Overseers walk to and fro, reciting Strictures and sermons. Their feet clop on the damp cobblestone, forming a steady rhythm along with their words.

I pass the Overseers at Holger Square, making my way to the front of the Office of the High Overseer, where more masked men roam. I can hear two of them whispering together and am reminded of giggling schoolgirls, exchanging secrets in class. However, the bronze scowls soon break any illusions of schoolgirls I entertain. These men are cold and unforgiving. Liars and murderers, spending their lives killing with cult-like devotion. Devotion to whom? To the _people,_ of course. The Everyman.

The Everyman gobbles down every lie, begging for more as the Overseers snicker behind their masks.

Every face is the same here, and as I near the building, the grayness sets in, the sun blocked out by the massive structure of concrete and glass. Modern architecture, they say. It is bleak and depressing.

The lobby is brighter than I imagined it being, the floors and walls made of white marble. An Overseer stands in the middle of the room, speaking to three men.

"Spare the rod and spoil the child-" I hear him say. I draw nearer, clearing my throat, and the Overseer stops, looking over at me. "Please, if you have a question, come join the discussion."

"Oh, oh, no," I say. "I'm looking for someone. An Overseer. His name is - um -" I bite my lip, realizing that I do not know his name. "I have his mask," I say, taking it from my bag. "I figured he'd want it back." The Overseers looks at me, his face unchanging from the familiar scowl.

"Yes," he says. "You will want to go see Overseer Huxley, then." He waves another Overseer toward him. "Overseer Ruby, please escort this woman upstairs so that she can give Overseer Huxley the mask he so carelessly misplaced."

"I can just leave it," I say, noting the man's tone.

" _No_. You will give it to him in person."

* * *

I wait near the top of the stairs as Overseers push past me, never giving me a second glance. The halls are quiet, except for the soft whispers of the religious men, their strictures filling the air.

An Overseer walks toward me, and I step to the side, expecting him to pass, but he stops, staring at me through his mask. More footsteps approach, and a face - a true face - stands out from the rest.

He approaches.

This is not the Overseer from last night. This man walks tall and steadily, his face sharp and stoic. The fear that distorted his features so greatly is gone, as though it never existed. Still, I recognize the nose - the crooked nose. Previously broken in some tussle with a "heretic", I assume.

"Miss, may I help you?" He holds his shoulders back.

A few Overseers walk by, and I see them lower their heads to him - a sign of respect. He looks over them as a master does to his servants, folding his arms behind his back and focusing his amber eyes on mine.

"I was informed that you wanted to see me. Is there something I can help you with? If you are looking for counsel, there are Overseers in the sermon hall who can assist you. I am afraid I'm a bit rusty when it comes to dealing with the public. It is not something I have done since I was younger." He clears his throat, and I look him over one more time before speaking.

"You left this," I say, pulling the mask from my bag. Still Overseer Huxley's face shows no hint of emotion - not even his eyes reveal any hint of recognition at the mask I hold before him. The Overseer nearby leans forward to get a good look at the mask, and I stare him down for a few seconds.

"Why-"

"Thank you," Huxley says, snatching the mask from my hand. He puts it on his face, adjusting it so that the eyes, nose, and mouth line up. He has turned back into just another Overseer, unrecognizable from the others. "If there is nothing else, I will return to my work," he says, in that voice so frequently associated with the Overseer. He glances at the guard nearby. "Good day, miss. And may the spirits guide you on your path. You will hear them best at dusk, where water meets fire."


	2. Seasoned Potatoes

 

I remember the first time I captured a heretic.

Juliet Feldman. Age 26. Born in the Month of Darkness. She lived in a small cottage in the Freeland District, right near the outskirts of Dunwall, where instead of the usual brick and smog of the city, there were fields of corn and wheat. It was to be an easy job - one for a beginner. Wagons hauled by oxen lined the dirt road, kicking up dust that stuck on their legs and fur - my boots and new uniform would be ruined, I thought. Now, as I think about it, I laugh bitterly. I was so young then.

My first glimpse of Juliet was as she hauled water from the well at the back of her home. The bar teetered unsteadily on her shoulders, water sloshing from the buckets. At her feet, two young children brought their hands and faces up, trying to catch the liquid in their mouths as it rained down upon them. They followed after her like ducklings, the mother duck waddling along the path with another small child attached to her lower leg.

I remember sighing then. I remember the doubt that entered my mind.

_Perhaps there has been a mistake. This woman cannot be a heretic._

More specifically, she had been accused of being a witch, making neighbors' crops die, causing milk to curdle, bringing about illness and death. Small, unlikely accidents.

_Have I already forgotten what I've learned?_ I thought. _Witches can easily disguise themselves, so that they look innocent._ Still, some signs of her perversion showed through the glamour.

As I drew closer, I noticed that her dress was ripped and stained in some places, her hair, unbrushed and tangled, bald spots lining her scalp where the hair had been ripped away. Black circles lined her pale eyes, her face, chalky and white. I was only a few steps away from her, and still she had not stopped walking. I could smell something sour coming from her, as if she had not bathed in a long time. She sniffed the air a few times, finally turning toward me, letting the pails drop from her shoulders. The children screamed and scattered at the sudden danger, racing away with wet clothes and hair. One ran toward me and stopped, turning the other way and sprinting after one of his brothers.

"Monster!" he called, his voice shrill. "A monster is here! Hide!"

Juliet cleared her throat. To me, it almost seemed as if she were growling.

"No visitors," she snapped. "Go away. Leave me to care for my children."

Clearly, I was not a visitor, my mask being very distinguishable as that of an Overseer.

"Miss Feldman - " I started.

"Away!" she barked. "I said, away with you, stranger."

"That is no way to speak to an Overseer, ma'am." I brought my shoulders back, craning my chin and neck up, trying to look as powerful as I could. "In the name of the Abbey of the Everyman, you have been accused of various acts of heresy, including witchcraft. You will come with me to an Abbey facility, where you will be tried and punished accordingly."

The woman stared blankly at me, holding her mouth open. I could see that she did not take care of her teeth, by the black that lined them. She blinked, seeming to snap out of her trance.

"You'll have tea first," she said, turning. I put my hand on the hilt of my sabre.

"No, you will come with me," I said.

"But, _tea first,_ " said Juliet, as though I were a child. Before I could object again, she turned toward the back door, heading inside. I followed her, keeping a tight grip around my Overseer's sabre.

Juliet had put a kettle on the stove and now held one of her children in her arms.

"The nice stranger is here for tea," she said, bouncing the curly-haired girl in her arms. I tapped my fingers anxiously on the side of my leg.

"We really need to be going. It is almost dark," I said. Juliet ignored me. I sighed. "What's her name?" I pointed to the girl in the woman's arms. She stared at me but stayed silent.

Two more children entered the room, pulling out one of the chairs at the table.

"Sit," said one little boy. I sat, coughing inside my mask as dust flew into the air. Once I was settled, the two children, hurried to Juliet, clasping their tiny hands onto the fabric of her dress.

Finally, the kettle whistled, and Juliet sat a stained mug down in front of me. Brown crud lined the inner edges of the ceramic cup, but they were soon obscured by the yellow-brown hue of a mysterious-smelling tea.

"Drink it," Juliet said. "Children, the tea is ready!" The woman stuck her head into the next room, waving her arm. "Tell your brothers and sisters."

I stared at the mug, picking it up in my hands and then setting it down again.

"How many children do you have, Miss Feldman?" I realized that Juliet's file had said nothing about her having children.

"I have many children," she said. "Many children." She cackled loudly, making me jump in my seat, her laughter suddenly turning to sobs and tears. "So many children." She sniffled.

I narrowed my eyes, though my face, covered by my mask, revealed nothing. I took my hand from the mug, noting that children had started to trickle in through the door way. First just one or two, but soon they were entering in hordes, swirling around the room and laughing as children do. They bumped into my chair, knocking me onto the floor.

"Who - " I started, attempting to pick myself up from the floor. Juliet had now jumped onto the table, her foot aiming for my head as I rose. I brought my hands up to my face, but her shoe connected with my mask before I could block it. I grunted as my head snapped back, my mask, along with some blood, flying of into the stampede of children. Little hands hit my face and shoulders as they ran by, clawing at my ears and eyes. Juliet stomped on the table, laughing as balls of metal flew up from the children's hands and into hers. My grenades.

I attempted to stand again, yelling over the ruckus.

"No, give those back to me. Just come peacefully," I said, but the children had grown louder, and I realized that they had taken my sabre and pistol as well.

_Ring around the whale,_

_Hang him by the tail,_

_Drop him, Drop him,_

_We all go boom!_

I realized what was about to happen as the grenades flew in all directions, each one only seconds apart. Time seemed to stop. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, my mind locking up in the confusion. All I could do was run.

And run, I did.

The explosions blew the windows out from the kitchen, and I screamed as the glass hit me, embedding itself into my flesh. Quickly, I threw off my flaming clothes, running some ways away before collapsing in the grass. I lay on my belly, my back burnt and splintered with glass, panting and crying as though I were just a little boy.

The Seminary did not prepare me for this.

The Abbey appeared shortly after the incident, Overseers swarming the scene like soldiers. They found me in the grass, barely lucid, one putting me over his shoulder.

"Do not worry, Brother. We are here."

After that moment, I never felt bad for another heretic ever again. I never doubted the Abbey's judgment, having learned that the Outsider can hide in even the most inconspicuous of people.

I found out that the Overseers had gone around, asking about any missing children, and to their surprise, there were none. However, there were plenty of dead children. Taken by a sudden illness. Nearly two-hundred. A trip to the local cemetery revealed, that many had been dug up.

The children's remains in the explosion were surprisingly nothing but bones, the only person's flesh and blood found in the kitchen being those of the witch, Juliet Feldman.

Yes, my first "catch" was nothing but a death. It had nothing to do with me, but still I was rewarded, having escaped alive and intact.

A young Overseer on his first mission brought down a powerful witch. After that moment, I knew that I would not be able to mess up again. They all expected me to do well, and I did not let them down.

* * *

**The Month of Nets, 2nd day of the First Week**

The day has turned to dusk in the industrial city, the clouded sky radiating colors of red and orange and pink. The sun shines dully through the smog in the air, its silhouette meeting the Wrenhaven on the horizon. I take a deep breath, trying to relax my shoulders and legs.

I figure that I should do one last show of my powers, in case the girl still does not believe me. But even if she does, will she have a cure? I have rarely used the abilities I was cursed with by the Outsider, though I have found a few bone charms in the possession of civilians. I know I cannot rely on my powers, even if they do help me with my life's work. A well-trained Overseer is just as good as any powers at finding heretical artifacts and witches. And I am the best.

I focus on the river ahead of me, catching a glimpse of an empty dock. There is nobody around the river in these parts, where warehouses sit abandoned and cats and dogs roam freely. Nobody except one faint figure. There she is.

I pinpoint my location with my eyes, squinting and squishing my face into various strained expressions. I have not fully figured out how to do this properly and often end up in a different location than the one intended.

_Go!_ I say to myself, but nothing happens. The last time I had done this - gone from one place to another in the blink of an eye - it seemed to come easily, though I ended up on the other side of the river from the Academy - instead of on the other side of the room in which I stood with the girl only the day before. I had been considering leaving, visualizing myself away from the cold and dead place called the Academy of Natural Philosophy. Perhaps, I even let the thought invade my mind as I tried to cross the room. It seems that my desire to leave had won.

I close my eyes, visualizing the river as I had just seen it.

_I want to go here,_ I think, imagining myself crossing the river. Then, I feel a strange tingling sensation, first on the back of my hand - where the Mark has been burned - and then a familiar feeling of being sucked into myself. In an instant, I have completely contracted into nothingness and then expanded again, letting my lungs fill with air.

I am...

My stomach drops as wind rushes up at me, and I claw at nothing but air, suddenly hitting the ground with a wet _smack._ The greasy water of the Wrenhaven brings me back to my senses, and I swim, all the while coughing and sputtering, and pull myself up onto the abandoned dock.

I rise to my knees, hacking the liquid from my lungs as water drips from my hair and robes, forming a puddle around me. At least I almost made it to my destination this time. I sniffle, running a hand through my neatly-cut hair, which is now wet and greasy, and once I have collected myself, I rise to my feet, nearly tripping over my robes pinned beneath my shoes.

The slim girl stands just where she had been before I crossed the river, gaping at me with wide eyes. Her hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes - brown with a greenish tint - are wide and bright. Her mouth hangs slightly open as she stares at me, unblinking.

Seeing as how our first meeting did not go well, I try to make a better impression this time - using my manners. I bow.

"Miss," I say. My mask, which I have attached to my belt, swings against my hip as I move. "I do apologize for our last two meetings. I am afraid I have not been very polite, and I do hope that you will forgive me." I give her my best smile - apparently, smiling is not a talent of mine, as the girl grimaces and takes a step back. I clear my throat. "I am Overseer William Huxley of the Abbey of the Everyman. It is very nice to meet you, and thank you for being here. It does mean a lot to me."

The girl stares at me silently. I feel as though I am being examined, like some rat under a vivisectionist's knife. Her eyes close to slits on her sharp face, and she crosses her arms, assuming a casual, but authoritative, stance. I try to remain humble, though I am tempted to throw my head back and jut my chest out, as would any Overseer of my status. But, I need this woman's help, and I swallow my pride, keeping my arms by my side and my gaze slightly lowered.

"Eleanor Hickey," she says, finally. "Now, what do you want?"

I sigh. She is just as frank as she was during our first meeting, and she taps her foot against the floor. I detect a hint of uneasiness in her eyes. Though I ended up falling into the river right afterward, she _did_ just see me appear seemingly out of nowhere, did she not? I nearly grin. _Let's see the Academy try to explain that with their natural philosophy._

I give myself a mental slap. _Be humble!_

"As I said before," I say, taking a deep breath. "I need your help. I would like to be rid of these cursed powers. As with all gifts from the Outsider, they will ruin me. I have been an Overseer my entire life, but I do not know if I will be able to withstand the temptation of these new abilities I have come to possess."

Eleanor's face softens, as though she is unsure.

"I still don't understand why you think I can help you."

Sure, it is a long shot, but what else can I do? Perhaps the Academy _can_ explain these powers. I shake my head. The Outsider is anything but "natural".

"I just - " I start. "As a natural philosopher, you deal with nature, yes? You deal with that which is _natural._ " She affirms my statement with a nod of the head. "Because these powers are unnatural, I had hoped that perhaps you could return me to my natural state. Perhaps - perhaps, you could study me - to see what's wrong. Detect that which should not be present inside me. You would know how to do that, would you not?"

Eleanor sighs.

"Look, I don't even _believe_ in the super - "

" - but, you - you _saw_ \- " I say, my tone becoming more desperate. "You saw what I did. You saw me disappear. You saw me appear just now."

"I - I don't know what I saw," Eleanor replies, biting her lower lip. "I am not easily fooled. I know how illusions work. I know that stage magicians do not actually perform 'magic', but use the 'art' of illusion. I assume that is precisely what you do. You use illusion to convert 'poor and misguided' students of natural philosophy to the ways of the Abbey. How many young people have you converted, Overseer? How many people have you fooled into abandoning their lives and submitting to the Abbey?"

"No, _no._ " I am becoming agitated. I realize that I am not used to others questioning my word. Usually, my word is truth. "I have seen a great deal of what you tell me does not exist. Witchcraft, possession, even necromancy. I have seen dead children dance around me, as though they are alive. I have seen heretics walk in the skin of others. I have seen witches set themselves on fire without any source of ignition and burn alive without uttering a single sound. These were all real experiences!" I find myself yelling. Eleanor's face has turned sour.

"Yeah, well you know what I've seen?" She starts. "I've seen neighbors taken by the Abbey for being too smart or too talented. I've known women who have been dragged away by Overseers for reading books or not taking care of their appearances or living alone. I have had Overseers harass me, telling me I should be doing 'women's work', such as cleaning and cooking or finding a husband. I have seen nothing but lies come from the Abbey, and you expect me to believe you?" She utters a forced chuckle. "Please, Overseer! I am not some simple-minded woman to be manipulated by your ridiculous claims of powers and witches! Take your bullshit to someone else!" She huffs.

We stare at each other in silence, both inflamed. I will receive no help from this girl.

"I see that I was mistaken in coming to you," I say, taking a deep breath. "I apologize for wasting your time." Eleanor does not reply. "Are you hungry?" My words take me by surprise. "Perhaps I can buy you dinner - "

"I know what you're doing," she says. "I'm a poor, hungry student, so I'd never pass up the opportunity for free food. Then, you'll have more time to talk to me about magic and powers, right?"

"I - " That wasn't my intention at all. In fact, I have no idea why I said it. "I - "

"Well, let's go," says Eleanor with a straight face. She turns toward Alder's Court, a nearby shopping center.

"Well, alright," I say, shrugging. "But, why?"

"I'm a poor hungry student, so I'd never pass up the opportunity for free food."

* * *

**The Month of Nets, 1st day of the Second Week**

Eleanor and I meet by the seasoned potato stand at Alder's Court, where we ate after meeting last week. I have already bought our food when she arrives, but she takes her order, setting it on the ground and pacing instead.

"A bunch of Overseers showed up at my apartment today," she says, her hands clasped tightly together. She stops and taps her foot. " _What's_ going _on?_ "

I have not seen Eleanor since our meeting last week and did not expect to see her again. But, to my surprise, a note appeared in my post box today, simply saying, "Seasoned potatoes?"

Luckily, I understood her meaning, just as she had understood mine before.

"As I said," I start. "These powers - "

" - Arrgghh!" Eleanor throws her hands up. "It's like the whole Abbey has dedicated its time to trying to fool me. To get me to stop - "

" - This is _not_ about _you_ ," I snap. " _I_ am in danger, and by meeting me here today, you have only endangered yourself. You have already made it very clear that you do not want to help, so I suggest you leave now."

We stare at each other in silence.

"I didn't tell them," Eleanor says, looking downward.

"What?"

"About your - eh - powers. I didn't tell the Overseer about them when I was interrogated."

"Interrogated?" I take a step forward. "Who? Who interrogated you?"

"His name was..." Eleanor stops to think. "Lemon? Or Lemming? Lemmer?"

"Lemler," I reply. "Overseer Noah Lemler." I sigh, running a gloved hand through my hair. "Outsiders Eyes, he's caught on to me." I take another deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Damn it!" I yell, kicking the container of seasoned potatoes into the river nearby. Eleanor frowns.

"Those were - "

I hand her my container. This time, she holds on to them.

"Why does it matter?" Eleanor asks, quietly. "Who is he?"

"Competition." This time, it is my turn to pace. I run a gloved hand over my stubbled face. " _Damn._ " I can feel my entire life falling apart. All the work I've done will be for nothing. Lemler will expose me as a heretic and take my place. He could very well become the next High Overseer, while I rot and then burn.

My breathing becomes shallow. _I don't want to burn!_ I am an _Overseer_. I can cleanse myself of this poison. The Outsider will not latch onto me. I will not let him!

Eleanor grabs my arm.

"Who are they?" she says, pointing toward a group of masked Overseers headed our way.

"You let them follow you?" I hiss.

"What? No! I'm not - "

"Let's go." I grab onto her arm, and we run from the potato stand.

The Overseers have started to chase us, now, and I realize that we are nearing a turn in the river that will easily leave us trapped. I veer to the right, dragging Eleanor along with me. She says nothing.

A row of abandoned buildings lies in our way, and I kick one of the windows in, letting the glass shatter inside.

"Damn it," I curse. A large shard of glass has imbedded itself into my calf. Eleanor groans and rolls her eyes, wrenching away from me to grab a plank of wood. She clears the window of leftover glass, climbing through and then turning to help me inside. Blood drips from my leg, but I ignore the pain, as I was taught at the seminary when I was but a boy.

"We're trapped," Eleanor gasps. The doorway leading to the next room has been boarded shut, leaving us no place to go. She gives me a venomous glare.

I know what I need to do. Once again I must make use of the Outsider's cursed powers.

"Hold onto me," I say. "Tightly." Eleanor obeys, and I close my eyes, trying to think of a place to go. Someplace far. Fields of corn and wheat invade my thoughts. Dirt roads and oxen attached to carts. A nice, little cottage sitting in a bed of wild grass in front of a well.

That is where we'll go. I picture the well - the stone well where I first saw the witch, Juliet Feldman.

* * *

I am dizzy. I cling to the ground with all my might, waiting for the world to stop spinning, but then I feel it-grass, the spiky blades sticking from between my fingers and crushed under my palms. I can hear frantic breathing beside me.

"What? Where..." Eleanor trails off. I sit up, orienting myself.

We lie between a house and a well. The house, which was a charming, little cottage when I last visited, has fallen into disrepair, its paint chipped away, and its walls, cracked and splintered. The structure sags, like an old face, bleak and gray under the setting sun.

I look to the well and feel my heart skip a beat.

_There she is._ Juliet Feldman. This time, she is old and grizzled, wrinkles lining her face. She stoops over under the weight of the pole across her back as she slugs two buckets of water back toward the house. I reach for my pistol and stand, wincing as I put weight onto my injured leg.

"Halt," I say, holding the weapon out in front of me. I keep my free hand on the hilt of my sabre. The woman stops, setting the pails down on the ground, and stares at me. I draw nearer, trying to hide my limp. The woman stays frozen in place.

"Who are you, good sir?" says the woman. "Come to harass an old woman?"

As I near, I realize that this woman is not Juliet. Of course, Juliet is dead.

The old woman is thin with long, gray hair pulled back into a single braid. She wears a gray dress, simple, but mostly clean. She smells of lavender and catnip.

"I - I simply - "

"If you're not here to hurt me, then come inside, dear. It's far too cold to speak out here. And please, bring the water with you." The old woman hobbles toward the cottage, holding her hands slightly out in front of her. I remain frozen until she disappears inside the house.

"Well, you heard her." Eleanor comes up behind me. "Bring the water." She heads toward the house, leaving me outside. I sigh, my heart still pounding, but to my surprise, I do as the woman asks, hoisting the pole onto my shoulders, the water sloshing from its buckets as I limp up the hill to the old cottage.


	3. Who Makes the Magic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s only taken me about a year to complete this not-so-well-written part, but here it is. Part 3 of my story for i-want-a-callisto.

**Part 3: Who Makes the Magic?**   
  


**The Month of Nets, 1st day of the Second Week**

"You drugged me!"

  
I pace back and forth in front of the fireplace where, just a few moments ago, Overseer Huxley and I had been having a pleasant chat.

  
"I didn’t drug you." Huxley throws his hands up and sighs.

  
"Then you did something! This was all a setup, wasn’t it? You knew those Overseers would be there. You knew that building would be boarded up." I stop, standing over Huxley who sits on a faded couch, clutching an empty mug between his hands. "I bet this gash in your leg isn’t even real! Nobody’s stupid enough to kick their leg through a glass window." I draw my foot back, letting it accelerate forward and connect with the Overseer’s calf. 

  
"Outsider’s Eyes!" Huxley yells, throwing his leg up onto the sofa, where I cannot reach it. "I assure you, I am indeed that stupid." The Overseer rubs his leg, wincing slightly.

  
The wound has been cleaned and bandaged and now smells heavily of some mystery herb. Just moments before, as the old woman ground the plants with a mortar and pestle, I studied Huxley whose wide eyes scanned the room repeatedly, his jaw tight. The old woman worked on his leg, humming casually as if the man in her room full of herbs, crystals, and mystery potions were not an Overseer of the Abbey of the Everyman. The poor woman. She would probably heal Huxley only to have him go straight to the Abbey after leaving her cottage. I imagine the Overseers dragging her from her home, as I had seen so many times in the city.

  
Huxley had mumbled something in reply, his attention occupied by the contents of the room.

  
I waited in silence, studying the old woman as she worked. We had simply entered her house, not knowing who she was or why she was so eager to help us. Perhaps she was just a nice person, but I always suspect others of ulterior motives when they are overly generous.

  
"My name is Anne," said the woman.

  
"Eleanor," I replied.

  
"Overseer William Huxley of the Abbey of the Everyman." Huxley brought his shoulders back, holding his head high. "Quite the collection you have here, Anne. You might want to take caution in what you decide to keep in your home. It is very easy for one to be influenced by the Outsider, even unintentionally."  
"Oh, don’t start with all that Outsider nonsense!" said Anne with a wave of her hand. I felt my breath catch in my throat, but the old woman simply rolled her eyes, hobbling closer to the Overseer. He raised an eyebrow.

  
"Excuse me, ma’am, but please remember to whom you speak. I am an Over—"

  
"And I’m an Oracle, so it should be you who remembers to whom you speak."

  
"Right, an - " Huxley starts, but then his face goes pale. "You weren’t being serious, were you?"

  
"Oh yes, dear. Yes, I am—or at least I was."

  
"Ha!" Huxley exclaimed. "Oracles stay in their positions for life."

  
"Do they, now?" Anne said nothing further, and Huxley, for the first time since Eleanor had met him, said nothing.

  
In fact, Huxley stayed quiet throughout the ordeal, though he seemed to mutter under his breath every now and then. 

  
I focused on Huxley, noting every twitch and shift of his body, my eyes wandering to the strange symbol marked on the back of his hand. He had somehow transformed from a man into a mystery. He made no sense.  But it had to make sense, his power—somehow, it had to be explainable. But all I could see was the impossible, sitting on a table and wincing slightly as an old woman pulled glass from his leg.

  
"My, you really got this lodged in here good. What did you do? Stick your foot through a window?" The old woman tsked at him, shaking her head. "You really must be more careful."

  
Then, there was Anne, petite with soft wrinkles, her hair pulled back into a long braid. The corners of her lips tilted slightly upward as she worked. She plucked the glass from Huxley’s flesh, her hands steady and firm. Once the glass was out, she would have to clean and disinfect the wounds. I scanned the shelves for the appropriate liquid—ah, yes. In the brown bottle. 

  
Anne took the bottle from the shelf, opening it and pouring a bit onto a clean towel.

  
"This will sting," she warned.

  
Then the wound would have to be sewn shut. Anne would need thread and a clean hooked needle.

  
The old woman sewed the Overseer’s torn flesh back together, like a tailor mending a jacket.

  
And finally, the bandages.

  
"Well, I guess I feel a bit better," Huxley said, attempting to move his injured leg.

"You need to rest now, dear. The leg will heal quicker that way." Anne motioned toward the doorway. "Please, take a seat on the couch, and I will make us some dinner. How does that sound?" Both Huxley and I nodded eagerly. I felt as though I haven’t eaten in days, and my mind wandered back to my abandoned potatoes, probably lying scattered and smashed against the cobblestone in the streets of Alder’s Court.

  
My thoughts are interrupted by a small gasp followed by a young voice.  
"Oh no! He’s been hurt! I’ll save you, Mister!"

  
Huxley and I stare at the small girl who has now appeared beside the couch. She studies the Overseer’s bandaged leg, poking at it with her finger.

  
"It seems Gramma has done a good job, as always, but only I can perform the final step!"

  
The final step?

  
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for the girl to continue.

  
"Yes, the fiiiiinal step! Now, stand back!" The girl throws her arms up, her hands waving dramatically in the air. "Your leg shall be HEALED!" Suddenly, the girl approaches Huxley, bending over and folding her hands behind her back before planting a small kiss on the Overseer’s bandaged leg. 

  
"There," she says. "By tomorrow at this time, your leg will be fully healed." She smiles and giggles, looking up at Huxley’s stunned face.

  
"Um, thank you," he mumbles. Then, the girl turns to me, her face bright.

  
"I’m Lynn. What’s your name?"

  
"Eleanor," I reply. I bring my right hand to the back of my head, fidgeting with my ponytail. "That woman, Anne, she’s your grandmother?"

  
"No, that’s her name! ‘Gramma’."

  
I look to Huxley, who shrugs, but suddenly his eyes widen, and he stares at the girl as though he remembers her from long ago.

  
"Are there… other children here, Lynn?"

  
"What? No! Just me and Gramma."

  
"And how did you come to live with Gramma?" Huxley’s face has turned cold, like stone.

  
"She rescued me from the masked men. They burned my parents, and they wanted to burn me, too. But then Gramma said I should be an Oracle!"

  
"You’re training to become an Oracle?"

  
The girl puts a finger to her lips.

  
"I don’t know. After that, Gramma took me here, and now we live here together."  
Lynn’s answer seems to satisfy Huxley. The Overseer sighs, leaning back on the couch.

* * *

  
Dinnertime at Anne’s cottage is a scattered and disorganized event. The old woman brings a bowl of stew and a hot roll to Huxley on the couch, while Lynn runs into the kitchen, emerging with another dinner roll tucked into a napkin. I watch as she sets the napkin on the ground, taking a bite of the bread, and then running away again. 

  
"She’s energetic." I say as I follow Anne into the kitchen. The woman raises an eyebrow.

  
"Oh yes, very much so. She must be to bear her burden." Anne says nothing more.

  
"What do you mean?" I ask.

  
The old woman smiles, motioning toward the kitchen table.

  
"Sit, dear. Have some dinner while the bread’s still hot."

* * *

  
As I am occupied with my stew, it takes me a while to notice that I eat alone. Once I finish my bowl, I leave the kitchen to check on Huxley, but he seems to be missing as well.

  
Someone screams from outside. My heart pounding, I rush out the back door.

  
"Ha ha!" The voices come from a flat stretch of grass just behind the well, one of them belonging to a man and the other to a woman. I approach the scene to witness an old woman, mace in hand, standing victoriously over a battered Overseer.

  
"You hit me right where I hurt my leg!"

  
"I know, Overseer. You need to be more careful."

  
"You deceitful witch!" Huxley’s face turns red.

  
"Oh, come now, dear. Don’t be such a so—"

  
"Don’t you tell me what to do!" Huxley stood, pointing a finger in the old woman’s face. "I am one of the best Overseers in Dunwall—"

  
"Yes, one of the best Overseers in Dunwall who stuck his leg through a glass window." I waltz toward the two, lifting an eyebrow.

  
"You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?" Huxley sighs. "The one mistake I make. Damn it." The Overseer turns away, his fists clenched and his breathing heavy.

  
It is only then that I realize that Huxley is genuinely upset about the incident. And here I was thinking that he was just some hard-headed Overseer, used to acting before thinking.

  
"It was just a joke, Huxley, I - " I hesitate. "I apologize if I upset you." I say the words clearly, without emotion, with my head held high, as though I were simply stating a fact about the ocean or whales. 

  
"You do not understand," Huxley replies, his back still turned. "I must not make mistakes such as these. I panicked. I - I’m not supposed to panic."

  
"Aw, come on. You didn’t panic." I try to put on my best reassuring smile. "You’re the one who got us here safely, after all."

  
Huxley stays silent for a moment before turning toward me. He nods.

  
"I suppose so. The spirits are drawn to me, now that I have fallen so low."

  
I open my mouth to utter generic reassurance phrase number two, but Huxley continues to speak.

  
"What is happening to me? Why me?"

  
"Oh shush, child," says Anne. Her words seem to break the strange spell that bound both Huxley and me just moments ago. 

  
"I am no child, old woman." Huxley turns toward her.

  
"Then stop whining." The wrinkles on Anne’s face move as she twists her mouth.

  
Lynn has wandered out the back door and makes her way toward us. I can’t help but notice that the girl’s attention is fixated on Overseer Huxley.

  
"It’s because you’re interesting," she says. Both Huxley and I turn to her, puzzled.

  
"What are you talking about?" Huxley asks.

  
"You wanted to know why it was you who was chosen. It’s because you’re interesting." Lynn smiles, looking up at the Overseer. 

  
"By who? The Outsider?" I ask sarcastically. Before Lynn can answer, Anne speaks once again. 

  
"Oh no, not more Outsider talk, Lynn. We’ve discussed this before."

  
"But - "

  
"So, you don’t believe in all the Abbey nonsense? Even though you’re an Oracle?" I cut Lynn off before she can speak. 

  
"I was an Oracle," Anne replies. "I am not an Oracle anymore."

  
"And why is that?" Huxley seems to have returned to his normal self. "Has the Outsider made you stray from your path?"

  
Anne chuckles.

  
"If there were one, I suppose you could say that he did. But I do not believe the Outsider exists, so—"

  
Huxley gasps, his eyes wide. He takes a step backward. 

  
"How, how did this happen?"

  
"It happened over time, dear. With much study, observation, and meditation. I realized that many of the incidents supposedly caused by the Outsider could be explained in normal, natural ways. I’m certainly not denying the existence of spirits. Perhaps they are here, working with nature at this very moment, but the Outsider—"

  
"The Outsider is not natural, so how can you say for sure if he’s real or not?" Huxley spits.

  
Anne shrugs.

  
"I can’t really say anything for sure, but I know I’ve seen more damage done by the idea of the Outsider than by the Outsider himself."

  
"Which is why we try to—"

  
"Yes, you warn the public against him, but how do you know anything about him? Have you met the Outsider?" Anne asks.

  
"No, but High Overseer Perry—"

  
"—was high as a kite, most days."

  
Huxley’s jaw drops.

  
"Wh-what? You can’t say that about him!" He sputters.

  
"There’s a certain plant from Pandyssia—very closely related to Oxrush, but with certain side effects… "

  
"High Overseer Perry would never—"

  
"High Overseer Perry did, High Overseer Gainford did, and many High Oracles, as well. Ha! In my chapel many of us smoked at least once a week, though not for recreation—mostly." Anne’s eyes crinkle, the corners of her lips turning upward.

  
I watch Huxley’s face, attempting to hold back the smirk that so desperately wants to form on my own. But his expression is priceless. I’ve never seen that much emotion on an Overseer’s face, though I admit, Huxley is the only one I’ve seen without his mask.

  
"So, basically," I start. "You’re saying that the entire Abbey is made up of plant-heads. The same Abbey that’s allowed to kidnap and kill people."

  
Anne notes my smug expression, her face darkening.

  
"You can just wipe that smirk off your face right now, young lady," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "The Abbey is a complicated institution filled with corrupt men. It’s the women who make the policy, but the men carry it out. Needless to say, much gets lost in translation."

  
"But why don’t you just tell them the truth?" I ask.

  
"The truth? What are the Oracles supposed to say? ‘Perhaps there is no such thing as the Outsider, and our entire religion is a sham.’ Ha! We’d be branded as heretics, Oracles or not. And then all of our work will have been in vain. What I want is for religion and natural philosophy to work together. Imagine what we could accomplish!"

  
"We already do. The Abbey encourages new technology, for it eliminates the need for magic—" Huxley resumes his Overseer demeanor.

  
"Yes, I understand that the Abbey loves all the new technology that’s been popping up these days. But, do you even know how any of it works? Do you even know how nature works?" Anne eyes Huxley, waiting for an answer.

  
"Do you?"

  
Anne shrugs.

  
"I only know what I’ve studied, and the information we do have is far from the whole picture. The world is a humongous place, you know. Filled will all kinds of things, from the biggest trees to the tiny creatures we can’t even see with our own eyes."

  
Huxley turns toward me with a questioning look.

  
"It’s true," I confirm.

  
"But if there are creatures we cannot see with our eyes, then how can you deny the Outsider’s existence?"

  
"I simply haven’t seen any evidence that suggests the Outsider is a real being. I have seen magic, but not the Outsider."

  
Huxley’s face has turned red.

  
"But the Outsider is real!"

  
"Oh, sure he is," Anne says, waving her hand. "And all Oracles are blind and pure. The Outsider is simply a myth to make the populus behave."

  
"Then, how did I get this?" Huxley holds out his hand. 

  
"I don’t know," Anne says, shrugging, "But I’m sure it can be explained if the natural philosophists are up to it." The old woman eyes me briefly. "That is, if they’re not too stubborn. Magic is just another part of nature, you know."

  
"Of course The Outsider exists!" Lynn interjects. The small girl has been standing quietly, forgotten in the debate. "How else could he have gotten here?" The little girl stamps her foot in the grass and points at Huxley’s hand. "I believe you, Mister Huxley."

  
Huxley acknowledges the girl with a slight nod, but he is not done with Anne.

  
"Then who makes the magic?" Huxley folds his arms over his chest.

  
"Who makes anything natural? It simply is, just as a tree, it is natural," Anne replies.

  
"There you go again! Natural? Ha!" Huxley puts a hand to his forehead. "Magic is anything but natural. I know this from experience."

  
"Mommy was a witch. Daddy was a witch. They burned together, screaming in the fiery pit!" Lynn recites. She turns to Huxley. There is no sorrow in her eyes. "Gramma is a witch, but the good kind."

  
"I’ve taken note," Huxley replies, his eyes locked on the old woman. "But there are no good witches. Remember that."

  
All of this talk about magic makes my head hurt, and I find myself wanting to be back at the Academy, where every problem has a solution. Where every question has an answer.

  
"You know what, Huxley?" I say suddenly. The Overseer and Anne fall silent, turning toward me. "You’re right. You’ve been right all along."

  
Huxley’s eyes widen.

  
"I - I was?" he sputters. 

  
"Yes. You were right to turn to the Academy to answer your question. I admit it, okay? If you haven’t been drugging me or something this entire time—" Somehow, I doubt Huxley’s intelligence when it comes to such manipulation. "—then you transported us instantaneously from that warehouse to this cottage. My guess is that you’ve stumbled upon some sort of advanced technology." I note the smile that has formed on Anne’s face. "If we’re going to figure out what’s happening with you, we’re going to need someone with a better understanding of it, and I think I know who we can talk to."

* * *

  
We make our way inside the cottage, exhausted from our talk, but Lynn is not even nearly done. She stands next to Huxley, hopping her way through the back door as she holds on to the Overseer’s hand.

  
"I think that the Outsider is just bored, all alone in the Void. He has all that magic and nothing to use it on! If I had magic, I’d give some of it to my friends, and we could use it on people—spank the bad men with brooms and give candies to all the good children. I’d give some to you, Mister Huxley, to catch all the bad witches, like Mommy and Daddy, and burn them so that they’ll never hurt anyone ever again! And Miss Ellie-nor, I’d give you powers so you can bring lights to every place in the whole Empire - and Pandyssia, too - and nobody would ever have to kill a whale ever again, and the whales would live free and sing their pretty songs with the birds. And then I’d ride one of them!" She adds.

  
I chuckle briefly, but then stop, turning my head toward the girl.

"How did you know that? That I’m trying to make cruelty-free and renewable energy?"

  
Lynn looks up at me with wide eyes.

  
"When I look at you, I can see the lights," she answers. 

* * *

  
Huxley leaves to put Lynn to bed - the girl refuses to let go of his hand - and I am left alone in the living room.

  
I find myself on the couch staring into the lit fireplace. The flames dance, wood and bright ash crackling beneath them… almost like magic.

  
Having escaped Lynn for a while, Huxley enters the room, hobbling toward me. He sighs, taking a seat.

  
"I would have killed you," he starts.

  
"What?" I reply. "What do you mean?"

  
"I would have killed you by now - or at least I would have turned you in to be detained by the Abbey until you confessed to your crimes." Huxley’s face is turned toward the fireplace.

  
"My crimes? What did I do?"

  
"In the eyes of the Abbey, everyone is guilty. Everyone deserves to be burned," the Overseer murmurs.

  
I scoff.

  
"Well, I could’ve told you that. Like I said before - I’ve known people who have been -"

  
"—Yes, I know, I know." Huxley waves his hand briefly. "But you wouldn’t be here, and Anne would be dead, and Lynn - I would have killed her, too. Evil lurks in even the most innocent of places, and I’ve seen it." Huxley’s eyes lock onto mine, turning my skin cold. "I know you don’t believe me Eleanor, but I’ve seen horrible things. People just do the most awful things when given power over others."

  
"I know," I reply, my eyes meeting his gaze. I can see the uneasiness that has formed on the Overseer’s face. He knows exactly who I am referring to.  
We turn away from each other.

  
"So, we’re going tomorrow?" Huxley asks, changing the topic.

  
"Yeah, we’ll go tomorrow," I confirm.

* * *

  
  
I am more than elated to finally be able to go to bed after such a long and strange day. Anne shows me to the guest room. 

  
"Your Overseer friend can sleep on the couch," she says with a wink. "I think I like you more than him, so far."

  
She does? She’s hardly said a word to me this entire night. Mostly she just argued with Huxley.

  
Once Anne has left, I decide to wash the day’s dirt and grime off of my skin. A wash basin and towel has been left on the dresser, and I sigh, holding the damp cloth to my face. 

  
I hear a giggle in the room next to mine. Lynn’s room. It is followed by Huxley’s deep voice. I thought Huxley had put Lynn to be already, but the voices are unmistakably theirs. Perhaps I should check on them - make sure Lynn’s okay. She seems to have taken to Huxley quite quickly, but I worry that the Overseer will feed her nothing but Abbey propaganda. 

  
I sneak into the hall, walking on the balls of my feet, until I near the door to Lynn’s bedroom. The door is cracked open, giving me a way to look inside. It seems as though the two are having a pleasant conversation, Lynn sitting up in bed, and Huxley half-sitting half-squatting near her in a chair that is far too small for him.

  
It feels wrong to spy on them, but the girl piques my interest more than anything. She is an enigma—something to be studied so that she will make sense within the laws of the world.

  
Lynn waves her hand in the air, her lips curling upward into a smile.

  
"Who are you waving at?" Huxley asks, scanning the room.

  
_No doubt, one of the many spirits that roam around us_ , I think sarcastically. 

  
"I’m waving at the Outsider, to say goodnight."

  
"You can see him?" Huxley asks, leaning forward.

  
"No, but he’s watching. I can feel it." Lynn’s eyes scan the room.

  
"Does he watch you all the time?"

  
"No, he’s never watched me," Lynn answers.

  
"This is the first time he’s ever watched you?" The chair creaks as Huxley shifts in the small chair, leaning his weight forward, but Lynn is more than happy to answer, her words as clear to me as they are to Huxley. 

  
"He’s not watching because of me, silly! It’s because you’re here. He’s watching _you_! He watches you all the time.”

  
I shudder, turning from the door and tip-toing back to my room. 

  
Once my head hits the pillow, the lights are extinguished all at once, and in my dream is not the handsome black-eyed young man, but a young girl with dark hair. Lynn. There is wisdom in her eyes.

  
"You have to go back," she whispers, her form fading and then disappearing into the empty blue of the Void.


End file.
